


Second Chances

by daasgrrl



Category: Monk - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 15:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daasgrrl/pseuds/daasgrrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene(s) from <em>Mr. Monk and the Bad Girlfriend</em>. Misery loves company. Maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

> Because it took a random comment from deep in the archives of TWoP to actually make me notice Leland reaching out to Adrian at the end of _Mr. Monk Takes Manhattan_. The slash glasses obviously hadn’t yet arrived in the mail. Also, I must say Shamrock’s wonderful [post-ep to that episode](http://www.squidge.org/~peja/cgi-bin/viewstory.php?sid=5592) made a hell of a lot more sense after that *g*
> 
> Thanks very much to [](http://thsfuhqinsux.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://thsfuhqinsux.livejournal.com/)**thsfuhqinsux** for great suggestions and insight. And for sharing the continuing _Monk_ -love.  
> 

Adrian had just pushed the doorbell with the point of his elbow for the fifth time when it was finally pulled open with what he felt to be excessive force.

“If you’ve come to say ‘I told you so’…”

Leland stood there glowering at him, looking much the same as he had in the parking lot, only slightly worse for wear. The lei was gone; Adrian guessed that had probably been removed first, and was either still in the depths of Leland’s car or had been flung out of the window on the way home, with complete disregard for the littering laws. The badge was gone too, although probably not to the same fate. Leland’s tie was loosened, the collar undone, and Adrian could already smell the distinct scent of beer. It wasn’t that much, though; likely only a couple of bottles. It was still early.

“No,” Adrian said hurriedly. “I just thought… maybe you could use the company?” He extended a wavering hand into the intervening space, as though that gesture would somehow prevent the door from being slammed in his face.

Leland looked at him, and after a couple of moments it was clear he remembered. Miles Holling, the Happy Burger, the beginning of the end of his marriage. The minor difference being that Adrian hadn’t been directly responsible for getting Karen arrested on a murder charge. He flinched a little as Leland shook his head and put his hand back on the door; but it was only to pull it the rest of the way open. Adrian breathed a sigh of relief and went in, caressing his undamaged right hand with the fingers of his left. He’d known all along that Randy would have probably been a more welcome sight, but right now Randy was being kept busy down at the station. Processing the accused.

“Natalie drive you?”

“Yes. Although she said you might not… want to see me right now.”

“Smart lady. You should try listening to her once in a while,” Leland muttered, but waved him ahead anyway.

Adrian looked around the living room with interest, suddenly aware that it had been over a year since Leland had gotten his own place, but he’d never had a reason to visit. It wasn’t exactly like Leland had the space to give departmental barbeques anymore. The living room was tidy but surprisingly cluttered, with photos on the walls, a jumbled bookshelf, random bits and pieces piled on top of a side cabinet, and wires snaking out from beneath the TV set to a video game console. Karen had obviously been very good about sharing custody of the boys, and the pink-tinged crystal acting as a bookend on the highest shelf hinted at her continuing influence. Adrian noted the two bottles of beer - one half-full on the coffee table, without a coaster; the other empty and upright on the floor near by - and nodded to himself in confirmation. A single black suitcase stood against a side wall, accusingly.

Leland sat himself down on the couch without further attempt at courtesy, and for a minute Adrian just stood there in the middle of the room, watching him drink, the silence heavy and awkward. Then he noticed that a couple of the photos on the wall weren’t hanging quite straight, and his fingers started twitching. He walked over to them immediately. “Do you mind if I… just…?“

“Knock yourself out.”

He dealt with each of them in turn, just to be on the safe side. The first was what looked like some kind of extended family reunion, taken in someone’s backyard; then a slightly faded exposure that looked like it was possibly Leland’s childhood home; one of Leland’s younger brother and his wife on their wedding day; two posed portraits of Max and Jared, individually; plus a less studied shot of them together, grinning up from matching bikes. Leland’s own wedding photos were conspicuously absent. The rightmost photo was of a noticeably younger Leland on a fishing boat, waving at the camera, windblown, sunburned, smiling. Adrian reached out and gave it a final balancing touch.

“Randy called,” Leland said quietly. “Just before you got here. They’re remanding her out at San Bruno.”

Adrian winced, and automatically turned his attention to the bookshelf, studying it carefully. Only about half of the items on it were actually books; the rest was a jumble of magazines, CDs, DVDs, and video game cases. There was no hope for it. Everything clearly needed to be taken out and reordered. “I hear that’s a nice… holding facility.”

“ _What_ exactly are you doing?”

“You’ll thank me later.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

Crouching awkwardly in order to avoid kneeling, Adrian began to remove and stack each type of item on a  separate patch of carpet. The carpet itself could have done with vacuuming, but he could get to that later. He was already visualizing the finished product - the books could go on the top three shelves, sorted by size, CDs, DVDs and video games below, stacked sideways where necessary for maximum stability and fit, magazines and miscellaneous items at the bottom. Yes, that would do nicely.

It was so peaceful. Everything else just went away for a little while as he put it all back to rights. Some of the items were a little dusty, but he just grit his teeth and kept going, brushing off his hands as best he could. He could give everything a proper wipe down later. Almost done, he frowned slightly at an oversized book full of glossy photographs of spiritual sites - obviously a present from Karen, even without checking the inscription - but compromised by finding a place for it on a lower shelf. Finally, he was finished. His knees cracked as he stood.

“So, are you going to do the rest of my apartment now? Fix my entire life for me, the same way you did earlier?”

Leland was still sitting there on the couch, watching him; it was almost as though he hadn’t moved in all that time, except that there were now two empty bottles of beer beside the table, and the new bottle on the table was three-quarters full of whiskey. The glass was in Leland’s hand. Judging from the clarity of his speech and the color of his face, it was probably only his second shot. Probably. But nevertheless there was a dangerous edge to his voice, and Adrian twitched instinctively.

“I could… I’ll just go get a dust cloth. And the vacuum cleaner.”

“Why?” Leland said. Suddenly, he rose to his feet, and Adrian took a single step back. He glanced down at the state of the carpet, not wanting to be rude.

“Uh…”

“Why,” Leland repeated, “do you have to be so damn _good_ at what you do?”

It was fast becoming clear he probably wasn’t talking about the carpet.

“I’m s-sorry, I…”

“You couldn’t have - I don’t know - tried being _wrong_? Just once?” Leland gesticulated wildly with the glass, and a little of the liquid sloshed over the top. Adrian took another step back, while adding stain remover to his mental checklist. Three shots. Maybe it had been three.

“… but, but, I… _she_ was the one who…” 

“We were happy,” Leland said, and abruptly sat back down again, looking at his glass now, instead of at Adrian.

“I’m… sorry,” Adrian said, although he didn’t really know why he was apologizing. “It’s a…”

“It’s a curse,” Leland said with finality, and reached for a top-up. Now that Adrian thought about it, the kitchen probably needed going over more than the living room did right now. He hurriedly slipped away to investigate.

  
***

  
When he finally returned, Leland was standing in front of the right-hand window. Outside it had already turned dark, but he’d left the curtains open, and the streetscape beyond was still clearly visible, lit by points of artificial light. Shadows danced behind curtains in the condo across the street as its inhabitants went about their evening’s business.

“She used to live right across there,” Leland said, without acknowledging Adrian’s presence, without turning. Instead, he gestured out towards the building with his chin. “Top floor, third from the right. If I’d been working late, and hadn’t managed to catch up with her that day, she’d always come out onto the balcony at exactly nine o’clock and wave. And I’d wave back.”

He half-lifted a hand in memory, a rueful twist to his mouth. Adrian was relieved to see he was no longer holding the glass; it was back on the table now, and the whiskey bottle beside it still mostly full. Slowly, he walked over to Leland’s side, his shoes adding a light coating of floor cleaner to the carpet. He dutifully sought out the window Leland had indicated; in contrast to many in the building, it was dark, the curtains open, although nothing of the interior was visible from this distance. Outside, there was a row of planter boxes across the width of the balcony, attached to the top railing, but they were all empty.

“Of course, she got a replacement tenant before she moved into the new place. Young guy, works nights. Not much by way of compensation, if you ask me.”

“Her loss.”

Leland smiled, tightly. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”

They stood there in silence, and Adrian’s hands began to itch for something to straighten. He held them down deliberately at his sides, forced himself to stillness. But he couldn’t help looking around, all the same; couldn’t help _seeing_. And the black suitcase was still standing against the wall, seemingly untouched.

“So are you still… what are you going to do about the tickets?”

Leland shrugged, then shook his head. “Too late to cancel, is all I know. Flight’s at noon tomorrow. Do you want them? You could go, take Natalie.”

“Oh, no. No thanks.” Adrian shuddered at the thought. “I don’t really like the, uh, sun. Or, you know, sand. Or hotel rooms. Or airplanes. Or flowers. Or those… those little paper umbrellas they put in your drinks.”

“Really? You have something against _cocktail umbrellas_? Why?” For a moment, Leland sounded more his usual self.

“Sharp. Sharp sharp pointy ends. Dangerous. Could put your eye out. Could kill you. Some people don’t even take them out first, did you know that?”

There was a unexpected snort from beside him, and Adrian frowned in the midst of his traumatic recollections as Leland’s face turned slightly red again, this time from chuckling. And Adrian hadn’t even gotten to the part about the potential reactive toxicity of the colored inks with liquids or the risks of accidental ingestion.

“Monk, just… don’t ever change, okay?”

“But you said…”

“Yeah, well, forget what I said.”

“I don’t actually think… I can do that,” Adrian said seriously. 

Leland shook his head, still smiling a little. There was another moment or two of silence, and then he suddenly reached into his shirt pocket, producing a small, square box covered in what looked like red velvet. He handed it to Adrian.

“You want to see something really funny? Open it.”

The box was solid and heavy in Adrian’s hand. He fumbled a little with the hinge, almost spilling the contents onto the floor, but righted the box at the last moment. A ring glittered within, diamond and gold against white satin, beautiful, but Adrian was in no state to appreciate it.

“Oh, god. You were going to…”

“Yep. Where better than Hawai’i? Could’ve had our honeymoon there, too.” There was no bitterness in Leland’s voice, just a soft resignation.

Adrian snapped the case shut and thrust it back at Leland as though it had burned him. “I’m so… really… I’m so sorry,” he said. Maybe if kept repeating himself it would eventually have some effect. Eventually.

Leland shook his head, tucking the box back in his pocket. “It’s not… it’s not your fault. It never was. I just couldn’t - _can’t_ \- believe I didn’t see it. That I didn’t know, somehow, from the beginning, what she was capable of. I’m a cop, for god’s sake. I’m _paid_ to know these things.”

“You can’t… no one knows everything.”

Leland looked at him, sharply. “ _You_ do. You always know.”

“That’s… true. But it doesn’t always help things, knowing.”

“Damn right it doesn’t.”

Leland was staring out the window again, hands on hips. He looked old, and tired, and Adrian was once again reminded of the pleading look in his eyes, the way he’d been so sure that Linda was his last chance at happiness. That memory gave Adrian the courage he needed. After all, Leland would have done the same for him. Had done, more than once.

He reached out slowly, and the fingers of his left hand closed gently around Leland’s right, pulling it slightly down and away from his side. For some reason he was acutely aware of his own ring, the one Trudy had slipped onto his finger the day he’d pledged his love and faithfulness to her. Until death, and beyond. Trudy’s ring, then. Leland’s hand, now.

Leland glanced down for a moment, surprised, but his hand stayed, warm and relaxed, in Adrian’s own. His thumb stroked the outside of Adrian’s in silent acknowledgment.

“We had something,” he said, only half to Adrian, still studying the deserted balcony. It had been one of the last things he’d said to her, there in the parking lot. Adrian remembered his hands firmly clasped around both of hers, in equal parts regret and restraint. Her eyes, big and imploring. Leland’s face as he’d finally pushed her from him.

“She wasn’t your last chance,” Adrian said. “There’ll be… somebody else. One of these days.”

_You do. You always know._

“Yeah, you really think so?” Leland muttered, clearly occupied with his own thoughts. Adrian smiled at him, unnoticed.

_It doesn’t always help things, knowing._

“Yes,” Adrian said. “I do.”

They stood there side by side, gazing into the unchangeable past, the unwritten future. Finally, Adrian let go of Leland’s hand, and turned his attention to clearing away the empty bottles. After he was done with that, he thought he might see what he could do about those whiskey stains on the carpet.


End file.
